


Trouble With Elephants

by MissPopuri



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissPopuri/pseuds/MissPopuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unsuspecting pilot gets caught up in a drug ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble With Elephants

In my hurry to get back into the states, I took an unauthorized flight from Heathrow to land at Westchester County inside the New York City limits. The plane touched down at 10 p.m. Eastern Time—the middle shift already had gone home for the night, one lone controller guided my plane into the terminal. It was too dark to guide my plane into the hangar. The preparations were arranged to keep my baggage in the one-seater as I would pick up my packages tomorrow.

As I walked towards the field’s main gate, I saw two shadows walk towards me. I lifted my hand to greet them. There was no movement.

“Evening, gentlemen,” I hollered, “the stars are beautiful tonight, aren’t they?” My head made a motion towards the sky, but neither man spoke to me. I shrugged, moved around them.

The bigger, stockier man grunted and shuffled his feet. He was making it clear to me that I probably should have gotten out of there, but I am not a big guy by any stretch of the imagination. Standing at only five foot nine inches tall, my physical stature was no match for the bulk shadow of a man. His partner was another story.

It was he who spoke finally. He sounded quite menacing with his Brooklyn accent, “Do us the honor of coming with us.”

Is he serious, I thought, no way in hell would I come with him willingly; you can’t be forceful like that with a woman let alone a man. I protested, “Thank you, but I will be heading home now. Maybe another time, gentlemen.”

They might have mumbled something like ‘this isn’t an offer you can confuse,’ but I was not listening—trying to side step things one and two. My miscalculation to walk past Thing One led me to pass out not long after.

-

You know where I’m at now, right?

Of course, I’m in some seedy hotel on the outskirts of New York City somewhere. These characters never put their kidnapped victims in the Ritz-Carlton with champagne and room service. Thing one and two are not the type to not attract the wrong kind of attention in that sort of venue. My father’s a State Senator; his own son would likely be recognized anyway.

I have no idea what my bodyguards’ boss wants with me, but I have a feeling that if I don’t give them the answer they want. There will be some adverse consequences; namely, the cement swimsuit comes to mind at a time like this.

Thing One is reclining on the bed next to the chair where I’m tied up, and he is watching some movie on one of the hotel’s few cable channels. He’s getting awfully teary over this sappy scene about this girl losing her boyfriend to her best friend.

Luckily, Thing Two walks in as the scene fades to commercial, and he yells at Thing One, “Turn that girly crap off, you embarrass yourself.”

In an attempt to stay tough, Thing One turns off the television, walks over to me, and slaps me roughly across the face. He moved to slug me again, but Thing Two intercepted, “That’s enough, you’ve proven your point.”

Thing One put his arm down and went back to sit on the edge of his bed. He said, “What does the boss want us to do with him?” He gestures his head towards me, sitting there not saying a word, even though I had no tape over my mouth.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Thing Two checked the window, closed the blinds. He muttered, “They are watching us. The boss wants us to depose of him.” He paces the little space of the room that isn’t being taken up by one giant bed and the chair occupied by myself.

He walked past the low dresser that held the television—kicked it, then yelped in pain as he realized how weak his toe was against the hard surface. As he turned towards his companion, he asked, “How many bullets do you have left in your gun?”

The bigger man lifted himself off the side of the bed—which would probably have given a sigh of relief if it could breathe—made his way over to the bedside table, picked up his Colt, and opened the barrel to examine its contents. With a sigh, he held up two fingers. Thing Two cursed some more and continued pacing.

After another minute of his grumbed, mumbled rant, he snapped his fingers, pointed at me, then at his friend’s gun. Meanwhile, he was making his way to the bathroom and gestured his friend to follow. Of course, they needed to have some privacy to discuss what was going to be done with me.

I couldn’t remain silent anymore, so I said, “You know, if you wanted some alone time, all you had to do was ask.” My tone dripped with sarcasm—if they were looking straight at me, they would have noticed my winking at them.

Irritated again, Thing Two said, “Shut up, I’m trying to think. Ben, come with me.”

Ben, or Thing One, followed his partner into the bathroom. “I don’t see why we have to kill him, Connor. He’s got nothing on him after all.” Connor turned on him, reached around his friend’s shoulder and shoved him into the bathroom.

Before he followed suit, he stared at my side turned head and said, “Don’t you dare think of trying anything funny while I’m gone, Mr. Pendragon.” He promptly shut the door, and I could hear muffled shouts from the almost sound proof bathroom.

Left to my own devices, I am here in the main room—staring at the picture frame on the wall with a lighthouse. The caption read, ‘Let Your Light Be a Beacon to the World.’ I wiggled my legs out of the taped restraints Ben put me in last night. Obviously he was too distracted to make them sound around my ankle; they came off with relative ease.

Having freed my legs from the chair, I easily lifted myself and walked—hunched over my back with the chair—to sit by the window. Trying not to make a sound, I set the chair down as I lifted my right boot to the window, slid my big toe across the curtain to look outside. It was afternoon, and we were on the second level of rat motel—a swimming pool could be seen from my angle into the courtyard.

A knock at the door startled me, a lady’s voice announced in a high pitched tone, “Housekeeping.” I dropped the curtain—moved my chair back to its original location—sat down hard next to the television. The shouting in the bathroom stopped; seconds later, the door opened with Connor wielding the gun.

When he saw me sitting down where he left me, he opened up the cartridge, spun it recklessly. He walked around to face me as the spinning stopped and cocked the barrel back in place. Ben stood on my left side, making sure I wasn’t going to move. The gun steadied in Connor’s hand, finger lightly placed on the trigger, aimed straight at my head.

There was another knock on the door—rough pounding against the wood—Connor’s eye shifted towards the door, looked at Ben, and signaled him to check the door.

Ben didn’t get the chance to respond before the door caved in and three heavily armored figures ran into the room. The gun was maneuvered in Connor’s hand as he swung his arm around—hit one of the officers in the arm, almost looked like Connor panicked. The officer on the left side of the flank dropped his own gun and grabbed his arm.

“Drop your weapon,” the center officer said, petite, female, her lean muscles showed underneath her Kevlar vest, “I don’t want to have to ask you again.” She gripped her own gun tighter, surveying the situation, and spotting me tied to the chair.

Connor took his time as he said, “I’d rather not, Agent Leontes. You have to pry it out of my cold, dead fingers.”

If it had been me standing there with that gun—listening to that idiot babble on about them having to kill him before he talked—there would be a blood stain on this carpet for when I hit him with the butt of my gun. No stain fighting treatment would be able to get that stain removed. This woman was a saint or something, standing there, waiting for him to finish.

When Connor was finally out of breath, Agent Leontes said, “That’s Agent Guinevere Leontes to you, buddy, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say, can and will be, used against you in the court of law.”

As she was saying this, her flank men were pulling out handcuffs, arresting them, and telling them they are being charged for evading authorities in Texas after a drugs bust. Ben and Connor were carted out of the room, leaving me alone with Guinevere. She dropped her gun to the side as she went to untie the knots around my wrists and stomach.

I didn’t know what was going on at the time, so I asked, “Agent Leontes, will I be called on as a witness?”

She looked up at me and smiled. It was the nicest smile I’d ever seen on a female officer. She answered matter of fact, “We will debrief you at our headquarters. If you will come with us,” she asked as an afterthought, “do you have a vehicle some place?”

Having informed her that my plane was still hanging outside the hangar, she escorted me herself to get my stuff from the airfield. It wasn’t customary to have American citizens be searched after a kidnapping, but there had been reports that there were drugs being flown into the country from India. Some unsuspecting pilots were given trinkets to carry with them through to private air fields where the TSA wasn’t so strict at enforcing their flight code.

Before I handed over my baggage on the plane, I asked, “Can I see your warrant to search my plane?”

Gwen pulled out a piece of paper with a judge’s signature on it. There was no denying that it was meant to be able to search not only LaGuardia airport, but all the planes that land on the air fields surrounding New York City. Even though my father was a State Senator, if I asked he wouldn’t have tried to find anywhere else around the search.

My innocence seemed solid in this whole ordeal, and Gwen assured me that I would not get into any trouble for unwittingly abetting a known criminal if I cooperated with authorities. As I handed over my bags, she took them and me back to FDA headquarters due north of Washington, D.C. She grabbed my arm—pulled me towards the car, buckled me in—as she sped down the highway I was too hyped up on adrenaline to throw up.

“You could kill a person like this, you know,” I shouted at her.

She smiled again, patted my head, and replied, “You’re lucky I buckled you in first.” Her laugh was infectious, I joined in her merriment. A force to be reckoned with, but she wasn’t forceful. If that made any sense, I hadn’t been concentrating on coherency.

We made it into Maryland without any problem. Traffic was light for late afternoon rush-hour. I forgot what day it was when Guinevere stopped laughing, “We are going to make it in good time. I have to finish this case before I get to go home for Memorial Day.”

“How do you figure that this case will be done?”

I asked, without expecting an answer, but Agent Leontes turned to me with conviction, “I have no doubt in my mind that this will be wrapped up before the end of the day.”

“Agent Leontes, if there is anything I can do to help,” I started.

“Please, call me, Guinevere,” she interrupted. Her pronouncement was answered by bullet through the passenger side rear view.

Of course, I had to turn around to look behind us. There were two black town cars approached us on our flanks. Gwen was still driving the car, but she turned to me and said, “Can you take the wheel?”

Switched the car to autopilot, she maneuvered herself around me as I took her spot behind the wheel. Opening the window, she cocked her gun and aimed to fire at the cars coming up to us. My knuckles were clinched against the steering wheel when I heard the others return their fire. Gwen hung out the window and shot at the front left tire of the car on her right; upon which, the second shot she fired hit the car directly.

As it spun out of control, I saw the other car from the rear view mirror move into range to take a shot on Guinevere. Her reflexes were too quick though for me to swerve and save her. A direct hit to the second car stopped them on the highway.

It was when she got back into the car that I said, “You saved me again. How did you do that?”

She looked at me curiously—a single curl had fallen into her face as she was shooting, she stared at me for a moment before she answered, “I have been keeping tabs on you for a while now, Mr. Pendragon.”

In stunned disbelief, we made it to Silver Springs in silence. I, still trying to figure out what she meant, absorbed little of what went on around me. The other agents questioned me, but I barely heard them as I gave my answers to them before they waved me through the process.

They took my white elephant though; it was meant to be a gift for my best friend, Elena. She loved those things as a kid, and I always teased her about it when I was home. When I protested that there was nothing to see with the toy.

The male agent checking my bags said, “I’m sorry, sir, but this is classified as evidence. We are not authorized to give it to you.”

Another agent—boss lady from the look of her—came up to us in the middle of our discussion. She put her hand on my shoulder.

“That will be quite enough, Mr. Pendragon. They are waiting for you in Meeting Room A now.”

I made my way to my destination only to find three other men in the room along with Agent Leontes. She looked genuinely happy to see me, but the others looked like they had experienced constipation in the last hour.

Before I could say anything witty, the one closest to me—Agent Bors, I later learned—invited me to take a seat, which I did much to my own chagrin.

Agent Bors, stood with his hands behind his back, talked to me matter of fact, “You are aware that you have entangled yourself with a drug ring, Mr. Pendragon.”

It didn’t even sound like a question. I wouldn’t knowingly do anything that was illegal especially not anything that could reflect badly on my father, politics being a nasty game in New York; I looked to Agent Leontes for support. Guinevere didn’t really give any sign of what I should say, but I decided to say it anyway, “You should ask Agent Guinevere over here,” I nodded my head towards her, “she seems to have kept a few documents on me.”

Obviously caught in her own web, Agent Leontes said, “We do believe you are innocent, Arthur, but we want to make sure you are clean.”

“I’ve never touched an ounce of hard substance,” my voice rose uncontrollably, “you could ask anyone, even my college roommate, Merlin.” I was probably close to hysterical as I stood up from my seat.

The other agents read over a sheet in their hands, whispering to each other. Guinevere urged me back into my chair and patted my shoulder gently. Agent Bors spoke again, “Well, your toxicology report is clean, but there is something else we wish to discuss with you.”

A chill ran up my spine, the air conditioner was obviously on in the hot summer. I swallowed air before I asked, “What is that exactly?”

Glances shared between the four agents told me that I wasn’t going to like what they wanted me to do. If the government was going to use me for a weapon, there was no way I could change their minds. I acquiesced and they told me to follow Guinevere to the Preparation Room.

-

In the Preparation Room, I was strapped with a wire and some clothes that didn’t look normal under cover ware. Gwen told me to put them on.

I lifted up the suit pants and asked, “Who am I supposed to be anyway?”

“Connor Machiavelli.”

When I did a double take at her, she continued, “We are aware that our ultimate target, Cenred; whom we know confides in Connor more than anyone. It is not known on the live wire that Connor has been taken down, but I noticed you bear a striking resemblance in physical stature and hair color to our suspect.”

“You want me go undercover to catch this character red handed while I pretend to be one of his most trusted goons,” I was skeptical on the logic, “how do I do that? I look nothing like that man in the eye color if you hadn’t noticed.”

Gwen smiled at me again, “Did you notice how Connor wore his sunglasses?”

Aside from mentally wanting to kick myself for forgetting about the sunglasses, that little weasel was perfectly content wearing them indoors. I hadn’t even decided on a reason for the glasses, but I just assumed he was a douche.

In my train of thought, Guinevere turned around so I could take off my own pants and put on the Connor pants. I told her when she was safe to turn around, and she helped me put on my shirt over the wire. Her nimble fingers also fitted a red carnation into my lapel. I took her hand and held it there for a while.

She looked up at me, a slight flush on her dark skin tone. I wasn’t sure why I did what I did next; I barely knew her. My lips touched hers slowly, softly. Breath slightly hitched, I could feel her lips quivering against mine. Hands reached up to touch her face, I deepened the kiss—feeling her breath enter my body, the impact left me breathless, dizzy.

“I think we better go do our mission.”

Whether it was her words or mine, I am still not sure.

~*~

“Stay calm, Mr. Pendragon,” Agent Bors’ voice spoke into my hidden earpiece, “we are right outside.”

I was really assured now as I rolled my eyes to no one in particular. Standing inside the tower complex of the notorious Cenred, I knew I was going to need all the help I could get. For a man with only a pilot’s license and no college degree, the Feds are putting much faith on something that could ultimately backfire.

“You’re not helping, Bors.”

Guinevere’s voice broke into my ear. I also heard the swat that received a grunt from Bors.

“Do you think we should take you off this case, Leontes? You are getting a little too soft.”

Before I could say anything to quell the arguing, I was asked by the receptionist at the front desk. “Can I help you?”

I showed her Connor’s ID and told her that I was here to see Cenred.

The receptionist’s smile was genuine as she said, “Right this way, Mr. Machiavelli.” I was told to enter the first elevator on the left. The elevator ride was quiet going up except for the racket in my ear. Bors and Guinevere were arguing again.

“Could you guys stop shouting in my head? I can barely hear myself think,” I said to the open air in the elevator. I hope they heard me. The airwaves went quiet just as the elevator doors opened on to the top floor. I exited and before I came through the doors; the smell of cigar smoke hit me hard. I was not used to the strong scent—nostrils flaring, trying to acclimate my senses to the aroma.

From across the room, I saw a high backed chair turned to look at who came through the doors. Its occupant smoked the cigar, took it out of his mouth, blew a puff of smoke, said in a grainy voice, “Ah, Connor, you are still wearing sunglasses indoors, I see.” He offered me one of his cigars.

In short, the briefing from the agents told me that you accepted what Cenred offered you. “Thank you, sir.” I didn’t know what else to say. They don’t tell you how formal the two of them are, but I guessed from Cenred’s laughter, I guessed right.

“You are a riot, Machiavelli,” Cenred hooted inbetween bursts of laughter, “how many times have I told you not to call me sir?”

For a moment I froze, the little voice in my ear said, “All the time, genius.”

“All the time, genius.”

Cenred broke into a smile as he continued to puff on his cigar. He shakes his head and says, “You never change, do you, cousin.” I mimicked Cenred’s gesture on my own cigar, trying not to inhale. Mentally thanking Guinevere again for speaking up, I didn’t see Cenred get up from his chair as he moved to the window, back to me. He was silent, stared out at his view of the Washington Monument. My thoughts raced on what I was expected to say to him after that last outburst.

“Do you have it, cousin?”

His voice took me aback. I had no idea what he was talking about to be honest.

I shrugged as I said, “We were outsmarted, sir.”

Cenred didn’t say anything for several seconds. He spoke darkly, “You do realize that those white elephants are the only thing that could get past the TSA.”

Elephants—what the fuss was about—being given a white elephant by some merchant in an Indian marketplace. I was selected to transport something illegal to the US through a harmless child’s toy. I guess Elena won’t be able to have it now; if I ever do get it back, I will destroy it for how much it has wrecked my last few days.

“What are you doing? Cenred is going to get suspicious,” Guinevere interrupted, whispering into my ear.

I cleared my throat nervously, fidgeted with my pant leg, as I tried to come up with something to say.

“What can I say,” I started, “the partner I had was completely useless.”

Without turning around, Cenred scoffed, laughed maliciously, “I told you to keep your relationship professional, Connor. Bitches are nothing but trouble.”

“I’m sure you know a lot about bitches causing you trouble,” I retaliated without thinking, almost wish I hadn’t, as I noticed Cenred’s back stiffen, turned swiftly, ran up, he was in my face.

He held a switchblade in his right hand—braced at my throat—as he shoved me back into the wall. Angrily, he growled, “How dare you bring that up,” he slammed his free hand on the other side of my head, “you do not talk about my girlfriend like that.”

Holding up my hands in surrender, I conceded, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” As an bonus, I whimpered a little.

Cenred let go of me as he pulled me back and then shoved me back on the couch in front of his desk.

“All is forgiven, cousin.”

He sat down behind his desk again and templed his index fingers towards his mouth. As he looked at me intensely, I couldn’t help but twitch under his gaze. It looked like he was deep in thought, but he didn’t want to talk.

“He gave us a bit more resistance than we’re used to, cousin,” I said, finally.

Again, Cenred stared straight past me, as if he hadn’t acknowledged my existence. Is he giving his cousin the silent treatment? Well, fake cousin, but if I am putting my neck out for the US Government, I might as well get a payoff for it.

“Did you hear me, Cenred?”

“Arthur!!!”

“Get Out of There!!”

Two voices screamed into my earpiece, they were warning me to get out, but I didn’t listen. I continued to goad Cenred, “What’s wrong, cat got your tongue? I didn’t take you for the silent type, cousin.”

Cenred blinked, turned his head and glared at me, “You have five minutes before my bodyguards arrive to escort you out of the building.”

Before I even moved toward the door, it opened to reveal Guinevere, holding her government issued glock, aimed at Cenred.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Cenred’s question was answered by Guinevere’s commanding voice, “You are under arrest, Cenred Machiavelli, for drug smuggling and evading the Fed.”

His laughter rang throughout the room.

“Your shit can’t stick to me, Agent Leontes. I’ve got diplomatic immunity.”

Guinevere braced her gun tighter; I noticed her muscles flexing in her forearm as she tried to keep calm. More people flooded the room, all mean enforcers, grimly aiming their guns at Guinevere and myself.

“I’ve got you surrounded now. If you surrender, I will go easy on you to my lawyer,” Cenred started.

Guinevere interrupted him, “Oh yeah, well, there is one thing I still have that you don’t.” She moved her gun away from Cenred—aimed it at the window—fired into the glass.

With the shatter, there was a whirring sound ascending. A helicopter appeared, turned broadside, to reveal the true Connor aiming a gun at his cousin. The look of horror on Cenred’s face when he realized his own family’s betrayal was priceless.

Yelling over the helicopter, Connor said, “Hey Cenred, I know we are family and all, but you’re a prick.”

No orders were issued, but the guard closest to me put me in a chokehold, aiming a gun at my head. He shouted, “What do I do with him, boss?”

There was an unrelenting staring contest between Connor and Cenred—both sized up the other, examined the depth of each of their betrayals.

“You see,” Guinevere spoke, “your cousin sang like a canary after Texas. He’s been working for us ever since,” she paused, “unfortunately, we needed you to admit that you smuggled the drugs into the United States.”

Cenred looked dumbfounded, “You have no proof.”

A white elephant was tossed at him from the open window. It shattered onto the floor, spilled its white powdery content. Cenred stared at his cousin in abject horror.

“Drop your weapons,” Guinevere said, pointedly. The guards dropped them; even the one who held me hostage, I was thankful.

Agent Bors came through the elevators and read Cenred his Miranda Rights. I stared at Guinevere the whole time. This wasn’t like an average day for me.

As I thought about it, she walked up to me and smiled again. She patted my arm, then rested her hand on my elbow. I smiled back at her.

“I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark,” she said softer than she had previously, “it was safer that way. You being a civilian, I was charged with protecting you.”

In response to her forthright actions, I pulled her closer to me—lips grazed against hers, whispered, “That’s all right,” I breathed, “just let me be able to protect you next time.”

With a sigh, she whispered, “Maybe next.”


End file.
